Start a Love Chain
by Arufabetto
Summary: A series of vageuly connected drabbles about the various love affairs of our beloved nations. ALL/most OF THEM ARE ANGSTY. Sflksufslkf. Current: Germancest. Yum.
1. Chapter 1

"Ve, Germany, can I ask you a question?"

"Hm?" He glanced towards the Italian, sitting with his legs to his chest, his arms wrapped around them, chin resting on his knees. The bright stars of the night sky sparkled in his eyes, which, he noted, were carefully avoiding making contact with his own. "Sure, what is it?"

Italy could feel his stomach twisting, and he bit his lip, trying to delay the tears welling up behind his eyes. "W-what would you say if I said I couldn't love you any more?"

"Couldn't love me…?" he echoed quietly, gazing blankly into space, his mind slowly stumbling to process the words.

Italy nodded, pressing a hand to his face, choking back his sobs. He felt terrible. Really. He could feel warm tears trailing over his hand. It was true, though…He just…couldn't love Germany anymore. It wouldn't be fair to him.

"Ve, I'm really sorry, you know."

Germany shook his head silently. Flashes of memories, little snapshots of a time now passed, danced across his vision. Italy, smiling brightly and reaching to hold his hand; Italy, pressing their lips together under a heavy shower of rain; Italy, skin flushed, looking _so damn hot_ in his bed; Italy, stepping into the UN meeting with his head held high, hand in hand with himself. He felt sick to his stomach, and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the thoughts away.

A very different group of thoughts passed through Italy's mind. It hurt him, badly, to see Germany this upset, and he tried to shoo away the pain, tried to replace it with the opposite – joy, home, _love_. Romano, showing him how to tend for a tiny, potted tomato plant, "accidentally" grabbing his hand as he did so; Romano, quietly creeping into his room in the middle of the night, crawling into bed with him, no questions asked; Romano, one hand tenderly lifted to stroke his curl, his fingers lightly passing over it, the other hand on his face, pulling him close for a kiss. He almost smiled – almost.

But when he lifted his head, Germany was still there, face pressed into his hands. He could practically feel his heart tearing in two, crinkling like paper, shattering like glass. "Ah, I really am sorry, you know," stuttered, climbing to his feet. He stumbled back a few steps, blinking and watching Germany for a second, then he turned and sprinted away, leaving Germany behind him. Running from the past. Running towards the future.

And Germany simply sat there. Alone. Shell shocked. Hah, of course this would happen to him. Good things never seemed to last for him. He stood up, wiping the tears from his eyes, gazing into the sky, feeling tiny, lost, alone among the stars.


	2. Chapter 2

His plant was wilting. Despite the hours of hard work, of effort, of _love_ he poured into the little plant, its leaves refused to green and its stem refused to remain stable. It was collapsing beneath itself. His precious little plant.

He tried to lift it up, to give it the support, the care it needed _so desperately_. But try as he might, it made no difference. His baby was falling apart at the seams. And it wouldn't be long before he found that he wasn't the one holding the needle and thread.

"…Feliciano?" He approached the seated figure, pausing between each step, preparing himself for any response. A thousand different scenarios passed through his head. A new one for each step. None of them mattered. The only thing that mattered was this. Reality. Imagining the confrontation would do nothing.

"…F-Feli?" He repeated the cry, his voice catching slightly, a stutter falling into it.

"Not now, Romano…not now." The voice was quiet, barely audible. But he had prepared himself for that, and the words were able to connect with his ears.

"…no. Yes now. Feliciano, fratello, darling. This isn't like you. I've never once seen you sulk." He crept closer to his brother, sliding onto the window seat beside him. "Maybe…maybe talking will help." His brow furrowed. What did he know? Comfort wasn't his place. He had always turned from people with his problems.

Italy blinked, lifting his head and shifting so he sat nearly in his brother's lap, head resting upon his shoulder. "M-maybe." A stutter. He never stuttered.

"Tesoro. Talk to me. You told me this would make you happy. You said even without Germany, you could be happy. That all you needed was me." His voice was on the verge of stern, deadly serious. The care was still evident in it, though. There, a thick layer of it, the sleeping grass beneath the snow.

He shook his head furiously. "Romano…no…I-I am happy. I just need time to adjust." He could tell it was a lie. They both knew. But they both believed it anyway. They couldn't help it.

Lies were just…nicer than the truth. Lies wouldn't bring his little plant back to life, but they could hold up its stem until time brought it back.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: THIS TOOK ME FAR TOO LONG. orz

Smutty/delicious omake coming soon. I promise.

* * *

He was trying to drown his troubles. He knew, deep down, that it would do no good, but still. It was worth a try. Alcohol had a certain…healing quality to it. It couldn't make the pain go away, but oh, hell, it could sure numb it.

And he'd settle for that for now. He'd settle for about anything now.

Anything was better than....than this, whatever the hell that was. He didn't even know. He couldn't explain it, not even to himself. It was just an ache, deep down in his chest.

But he couldn't bring himself to put it quite like that. Heartache?

Hah. As if.

Ah. So there he was, sitting at the bar, pressing his face into his hands, a series of emptied glasses surrounding him, praying for a release from this stupid pain. But the pain, it only made it worse, didn't it? He was supposed to be strong, he had to be.

But he wasn't. He was weak. Broken.

With a quiet sigh, he signaled for another beer, wondering when the numbness he so longed for would kick in.

"Hey, West! Long time no see 'round these parts!" Hopefully soon.

He slowly lifted his head from the cradle of his hands, staring into the red eyes that met his. "…Gilbert."

"The one and only!" A grin, a smirk. Gilbert was always so pleased with himself. Oblivious to his brother's pain.

He took a seat on the stool beside him, waving away the two people who had been hovering about behind him, telling them to "buzz off," he was "gonna hang with bruden." Not noting his brother's obvious distaste at the idea.

He slung an arm about Ludwig's shoulders, not minding to get up close and personal. _Like Feli_, he noted, a bitter tone creeping into even his thoughts.

"So, what horrible thing are you here to rid yourself of today?"

He stared blankly at his brother. How could he possibly know why he was there?

"Don't look so dumb, I know you only come here when you really need to drink. Bar hopping's more my thing than yours. You prefer to have your beer at home, all casual like."

…his brother really knew too much about him. He sighed, taking another swig of his drink. "Nothing I'd like to discuss with you, thanks."

Gilbert feigned offence. "Why, don't trust your own precious bruden?"

"Not particularly."

"Shame. You know you can always trust me." That stupid smirk again.

"Oh? I highly doubt that." Another swig of that amber liquid. His thoughts were still fresh, and now he was stuck taking to Gilbert, who seemed intent on playing therapist. Lovely.

Another fake frown. "I'm sorry to hear that. You know I trust you."

He stared at his brother for a moment, genuine surprise showing on his face. He trusted him…? He couldn't help but wonder if that were true.

The silver haired man smiled at him, tilting his head very slightly to the left. "…you do know that, ja?"

"……ja." He had to admit it, he had no reason to believe his brother didn't. They didn't get along, per say, but there had been times….times when his brother had no one else to turn to, and he had trusted him to help him out. Trusted him to save him.

"Good." He smiled, a real smile, not that stupid smirk he reserved for everyone else. "Now. I trust you, you ought to trust me. Tell me what's wrong."

He turned away from his brother, refusing to meet those red tinted eyes anymore, shaking his head slowly. "C-can you just leave? I'd rather not talk about it."

"Not talking will get you no where. You'll just keep the thoughts inside, and they'll just build up and eventually, bam! You explode and kill yourself 'cause you can't take it anymore."

"…" He blinked, staring at Gilbert, mouth slightly agape. What…what the hell was he talking about? Oh Gott was his brother stupid…he couldn't help it, he had to laugh. "You really are clueless."

"….whatever. It's true. So tell me what's up."

He sighed, leaning back on his bar stool. "Short version, I trusted someone with all of myself, and in the end, they...fucked it up. Fucked me up."

"…maybe you should put your trust in better people." He pulled Ludwig close, pressing him against his chest.

"Y-yeah. Maybe I should." He smiled a bit. Only a bit, but it was there and it was…it was nice.

_And I love you to death, I don't think I like you anymore._


End file.
